


No Skill In The Kitchen?

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Slash, Baking, Birthday Fluff, Cutesy, Fluff, M/M, Surprises, Young Aragorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erestor claims he cannot bake, but Estel is certain that he can...will Elrond be able to stomach eating his begetting day cake?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Skill In The Kitchen?

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write little!Estel for a while, but it never actually happened before now. I'm pretty pleased with the result! There are a few little quirks here that come with interpreting characters so easily open to interpretation; I love discussing things like that, so please don't hesitate to comment on them. The paragraph quoted is from _Summa Theologica_ by Saint Thomas Aquinas. It's a slight dig...but I did find his book very, very dull XD
> 
> Also, this apparently won 2nd place in the Favourite Recipe!Fic category of the 2012 Tree & Flower Awards, which I did not know until I went looking for it to post it up. How nice! Thanks to whoever voted for it and nominated it and whatnot! :D

The book was a thick tome, heavy with musty smelling pages and bound with strong leather wrapped covers. The content, hailed by the men who had presented it to the Lord of Imladris as ‘insights from the mind of a true genius!’ was actually turning out to be just as musty as its pages.

_“We see things that lack intelligence, such as natural bodies, act for an end, and this is evident from their acting always, or nearly always, in the same way, so as to obtain the best result. Hence it is plain that not fortuitously, but designedly, do they achieve their end. Now whatever lacks intelligence cannot move towards an end, unless it be directed by some being endowed with knowledge and intelligence; as the arrow is shot to its mark by the archer…”_

“’Estor.” A tug on the hem of his robes.

Erestor looked away from the book and down at the small human child, trying not to show how grateful he was for the interruption. “Good morning, little manling,” he said softly. Estel reached up with his small arms, and Erestor placed the book on his desk for the moment and lifted him up onto his lap. “And what can I do for you?”

Estel gave him a very serious look. “’Estor,” he stated, in such a determined little voice that the councillor had to bite his lip to contain a smile. “Ada’s begetting day is tomorrow.”

Erestor nodded. “Indeed it is little one.”

“Wanna make him a birthday cake!” Estel announced happily, grinning and throwing his small hands into the air.

Erestor blinked. “Then…why are you here and not in the kitchen?”

Estel grinned wider and grabbed a strand of Erestor’s hair to affectionately tug on. “’Estor help me!”

“I think that is a bad idea, child,” Erestor said gently, wincing as Estel yanked on the piece of dark hair he held captive. “I am not possessed of any skill in the kitchen.”

“But ‘Estor,” Estel whined, giving Erestor his best puppy-eyed, pleading look. “You can do anything!”

Erestor laughed. “Not everything, child, though I’m flattered you think so.” He felt guilty though when Estel fixed him with a heartbroken look. He sighed. “How about I help you find a recipe book, though, hmm?”

Estel squeaked happily and jumped up on the elf’s lap to hug him around the neck and press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, ‘Estor!”

Erestor stood, holding the child while Estel clung on around his neck. “Think nothing of it, little one,” he smiled as he carried Estel out into the corridor and along to the library.

Inside, rows of tall oak shelves towered above their heads to the bright vaulted ceiling. Estel wriggled, wanting to be put down. As Erestor placed his small feet on the floor, he pointed to where Estel would find the section on cookery. “Look at the spines only, though,” he cautioned, “They will be too heavy for you to lift out on your own.” Nodding eagerly, Estel scurried off toward the indicated section. Turning away, Erestor knocked on the small door set into the wall by the side of the main door.

There was a quiet crash from within, and seconds a later an irritated and flustered looking Melpomaen stuck his head around the door. “I swear Taren, if you have one more stupid question about-” Then he actually looked at his visitor, and he relaxed against the door frame. “Oh, it’s only you Erestor. I thought you were Taren, coming to badger me yet again.”

“You should simply give him a stern talking to, my friend,” Erestor laughed, “I am sure you could quite easily dissuade him from vying for your attention anymore.”

Melpomaen scowled at him. Petite, sweet-faced and fairly short by elven standards, Melpomaen wasn’t the most imposing of elves. Unlike Erestor himself, who fairly towered over the tiny librarian and was taller than most elves in Imladris. In fact, only Glorfindel stood noticeably taller than him, though the twins had given them both a run for their money when they had been growing, despite eventually falling short of their target.

Melpomaen sniffed disdainfully, trying not to emphasize how he had to tilt his head back slightly to look Erestor in the eye. “And what is it that I can do for you, exactly?” he asked imperiously.

Erestor snickered. “I need a book on baking cakes.”

Melpomaen raised an eyebrow. “You’re planning on taking up a new hobby?” he asked suspiciously as he started off to the section Estel had disappeared into.

“Estel wishes to bake Elrond a begetting day cake,” Erestor corrected. “I sent him in here ahead of me. I told him not to touch anything, do not worry,” he added hastily at the librarian’s burgeoning look of horror.

They rounded a book case, and Melpomaen inspected the shelves before nodding. “These shelves here,” he swept an arm across a wide swath, “These ones relate specifically to baking. I do not know what’s any good, though.”

Erestor nodded. “No matter, thank you for showing me. But where is Estel?” He raised his voice to shout. “Estel?!”

“Look, ‘Estor, up here!”

Erestor looked up, and almost dropped dead from horror. Clutching at a nearby bookcase, he managed to choke out, “Estel, what in Varda’s name are you doing up _there_?”

Estel smiled down at them both and waved. “I climbed,” he puffed out his little chest with pride, and pointed behind him. “Up there.”

“Well you can climb straight back down again!” Erestor yelled, “Quickly, before you fall!”

Estel looked crestfallen. “But…it’s fun up here…”

“And it is also dangerous, manling,” Melpomaen put in before Erestor could really scold the child. “I shall fetch you a ladder. Stay still.” He returned within half a minute, carrying one of the long ladders that attached to the shelves. He clipped it onto the metal bar. Erestor insisted on climbing up and retrieving Estel himself, which displeased the little man no end. He was mollified when Erestor gave him a long, greatly relieved hug, glad that he had managed to successfully rescue him from the bookcase without injury. Such a thing was a great achievement where Estel was concerned. Then, on Estel’s impatient urging (the bookcase incident now forgotten), they started looking for a suitable book.

“This one looks good.” Melpomaen had pulled out a large tome brightly covered in green cloth from the bookshelf and was leafing through it.

“Are you not supposed to be working, Melpomaen?” Erestor asked, one eyebrow raised in mock-disapproval.

Melpomaen waved an airy hand. “I haven’t all that much to do, really.” He then scowled and looked around furtively. “Besides, now Taren doesn’t know where I am.”

Erestor laughed and rolled his eyes, then turned back to the book Estel had eagerly pointed out. “Does this one look good to you?” he asked the small child.

Estel nodded enthusiastically. “This one!” he announced, poking his finger at the middle of the page.

“Alright,” Erestor nodded, then collected both boy and book in his arms and smiled at Melpomaen. “Thank you for your help, my friend. I hope you won’t be too bored without us.” They both laughed, and Erestor made to leave. At the door he paused. “Oh, and I hope you realize Taren’s game soon. I fear he might take it into his head to go further in his…attentions of you,” Erestor snickered.

Melpomaen simply scowled and slammed his door, leaving Erestor to laugh all the way down the corridor, unable to answer Estel’s squeaky, confused questions.

The kitchens were empty when they entered. Estel ran happily around exploring under the tables and inside the cupboards and almost forgetting the reason they were here.

Almost.

He hopped up onto the bench where Erestor had made himself some tea and pouted. “’Estor, wanna start now.”

Erestor shook his head. “Nay, Estel, we should wait for the cook to come back. You know how Turwen hates it when people interfere with the delicate workings of her kitchen.”

Estel whined, but Erestor held firm. Estel began to pace around his feet, alternating between whining and giving him pouting, begging looks. Erestor sighed. “Estel, I would love to help you, but I am no great cook, truly.”

“I do not care,” Estel insisted.

Erestor pinched the bridge of his thin nose. “Fine,” he sighed, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Estel jumped up and down happily, getting under Erestor’s feet as he walked over to one of the counters carrying the recipe book. He placed the book open on the counter at the page Estel had chosen. “Alright, Estel. We’ll start without Turwen, but if she comes back, _she_ can help you, understood?”

Estel appearing to be ignoring him as he determinedly attempted to climb onto the counter. Erestor prized him off the cupboards and sent him to collect various kitchen utensils that they would need, whilst he opened the door of Turwen’s extensive pantry.  

He checked the list at the head of the recipe. They needed some butter, self-raising flour, plain flour, two different types of sugar, cocoa powder, three eggs, some buttermilk, some coffee granules, some chocolate and one pinch of salt. Erestor collected these things in two trips and set them out on the counter, while Estel piled seemingly every utensil in the kitchen next to them. “Take all this back, Estel,” Erestor commanded, separating the pile into ‘needed’ and ‘unneeded’.

First they buttered and lined the cake tin, and made sure the flames were hot in the oven. Then Estel carefully broke the chocolate into small pieces and dropped them into the hot pan Erestor was holding the handle of. Then they mixed the coffee together with water and poured it in, adding the butter too. Erestor left it to warm until everything in it had melted. Then he and Estel poured the two kinds of flour, two kinds of sugar and the cocoa into a big bowl. Erestor let Estel stir and beat the mixture to make sure there were no lumps whilst he searched for something among the shelves.

“Is it done?” he asked when he returned, a small box in his hand.

Estel nodded. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

Erestor opened the lid and showed him the pile of salt sitting inside. “This is Turwen’s saltbox. According to the recipe, we need a pinch of salt in the mixture.” He picked up a tiny pinch and added it.

Estel wrinkled his nose. “Won’t that make it taste bad?”

_I hope not_ , Erestor thought. “Certainly not,” he said cheerfully, “It says right here in the book!” He pointed to it, knowing Estel couldn’t read. The child shrugged, and they continued.

Erestor beat the eggs in a bowl, not letting Estel do it no matter how much he whined. Then he stirred the buttermilk, and checked on the pan simmering on the hob. It was ready, so he poured that and the egg mix into the flour bowl and they both stirred it until the consistency was smooth and runny, and everything was properly mixed together. Then Erestor carefully poured it into the cake tin, allowing Estel to help a little, and they put it in the oven.

“Now, we need to make the icing,” Erestor announced. He was slightly perturbed that Turwen hadn’t yet appeared; she was never usually away from her kitchen for long. The hard part was probably over though, so he collected the right ingredients and they set to work.

Estel once again chopped up the chocolate into small pieces while Erestor poured the cream and sugar into a pan and heated it until it was about to boil. When that happened he plucked it off the stove and poured it onto Estel’s chocolate, which they mixed until it had all melted. By this time the cake was ready to come out of the oven. Erestor poked a skewer into the top, and judged it ready by how the skewer came out clean and the top of the cake felt firm. He turned it out of the cake tin with some difficulty and left it to cool on a wire rack.

“Now we can relax for a bit,” he told Estel, “Do you want some food?” They amused themselves poking in the pantry for a long while, until the cake was judged cool. Then Erestor cut the cake rather shakily into three slightly uneven slices, and spread a layer of the icing on each, sandwiching them together. He poured the rest of the icing over the top and Estel sprinkled on the chocolate shavings.

They both stood back to admire their handiwork. “It looks wonderful,” Erestor said, not a little surprised at the rather splendid outcome of their work.

Estel hugged him round the middle from where he was standing on the counter-top. “Told you you could do anything,” he grinned, his voice muffled a little by the fabric of Erestor’s robes.

_0_

They’d hidden the cake in the pantry, and Erestor had found Turwen and told her about it. The cook hadn’t looked particularly thrilled that others had been poking around in her kitchen without her leave, but Erestor gave the fiery woman a very contrite look, and upon seeing her kitchen spotless and tidy, Turwen relented.

She even dug out some tiny candles and let Estel push them into the surface of the cake.

The small man was very excited as he sat down to the begetting day dinner, but he wouldn’t tell anyone why. Even when pressed by his cunning elder brothers, Estel remained remarkably silent. When Turwen appeared with the cake he squeaked a little with excitement, but did nothing else.

Elrond laughed as the cake was set in front of him. “How lovely,” he smiled, “Did you make this yourself, Turwen?”

The cook smiled. “I had no hand in it, my lord,” she smirked, “It was your foster-son who decided to flaunt his skill in the kitchen.”

All faces at the table turned in surprise to Estel. The small child beamed. “Surprise, ada!” Estel yelled happily.

“That really is a surprise,” Elladan sniggered quietly.

Elrond bit the corner of his lip. “Well, Estel! You really appear to have advanced greatly in your grasp of kitchen skill while we have all been looking the other way!”

Estel grinned. “I didn’t do it alone!” he chirped. He pointed happily at Erestor. “’Estor helped me!”

Everyone’s faces swivelled to Erestor, who sipped casually from his wine goblet. “I can do anything, after all,” he said quietly, at which the whole table laughed.

Eventually the surprise wore off enough for everyone to taste the cake, which they all acclaimed as quite lovely. Even Erestor thought it was good.

Later, when Elrond had opened his presents and Estel had been packed off to bed, Erestor stood nursing a last glass of wine by one of the big open windows looking out onto Imladris’ gardens. He had been standing there for a while when he felt a familiar presence behind him and smiled.

“I never knew you could cook. You could’ve baked me a cake for my begetting day!”

Erestor threw an amused look over his shoulder. “Jealous, are we?” he said with a smirk.

Glorfindel grinned, then slid his arms gently around Erestor’s middle and rested his head on his shoulder. “Very, very jealous. So jealous I think I might turn green.”

Erestor laughed. “I doubt your hair would match such a colour,” he murmured, twisting a piece of it around one of his fingers.

Glorfindel smiled and kissed his cheek. “Silly. Are you ready to go up, then?” Erestor nodded, and they said goodnight to Elrond.

As Elrond gave him a goodnight hug, he whispered into his ear, “I do not know how you managed it, Erestor, but the cake was lovely.”

 Erestor smiled as they parted. “Well, it was your begetting day, after all,” he laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies also for that awful pun. I couldn't resist XD   
> The recipe for the cake is at: http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/3092/ultimate-chocolate-cake


End file.
